Happy Friday, folks!
I'm going peach picking this morning. [This is where I thank you in advance for humoring my thoughts on peaches.]
It instinctively feels too early for peaches. They have always been the flavor of back-to-school. As it is not yet the end of August - nor will I be heading back to school at any point this year - this feels a bit strange.
My mom would come home from our local orchard with large brown paper bags bulging with them at the very end of the summer. Sitting there, waiting to be used, their smell would infiltrate the house. I would eat them for breakfast. I would eat them as a snack. I would eat them in pies and crisps and dumplings and jams.
I would inevitably have a bowl of sliced peaches as a part of my first day of school breakfast. Even now, when I bite into a ripe one - the sweet juice, the slight tartness in the back of my mouth - it heralds the beginning of fall, the beginning of school. That taste, that smell mingled for so many years with that of new clothes, new pencils, new notebooks. It meant the picture on the front porch with my backpack and carefully selected outfit, and the more embarrassing one getting onto the school bus. It meant a new teacher, new classroom, new friends.
Now, it means these memories.
And now I'm off to the orchard. Happy weekend!